


For You, With You. Forever.

by thisuserishomo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - I do what I want, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Pansexual El | Jane Hopper, Bisexual Mike Wheeler, Constantly having bi panic Mike, Eleven is such a fucking sweetheart, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Will Byers, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Like really slow, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Harassment, Mutual Pining, Nothing explicit, Nothing explicit or graphic, Panic Attacks, Robin and Will are a gay duo, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Teen Angst, Trigger Warnings, Underage Drinking, byler, el and will did not move and hopper didn't "die", okay season 3 happened but, they're 16 in this, william and jane are still here dude
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19175194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisuserishomo/pseuds/thisuserishomo
Summary: Tears start to make their way down his cheeks, drenching his silk soft skin. I rest both my hands on either side of his face, caressing his trembling, clenched jaw, and he looks up at me with those doe eyes as tears continue to fall. I wipe them away with the pads of my thumbs because the only thing I want falling is him for me.





	1. Fools For Sale: Mike

 

 The thing is, I hadn’t known I’d fallen for you ‘till you fell for another.

 

==

 

Mike Wheeler never really understood a lot of things. 

 

Things that made no sense, things that he found no significance to, or that he wasn’t interested in.

 

Most of the things in his life made no sense, so most of the things he knew were confusing for him, and it’s been like that ever since he was just a baby.

 

And as he got older, he came to the conclusion that life itself made no sense. 

 

For example, politics.

 

He didn’t get why his parents would always fight about things like this, it’s not like their opinions would change the government's view on things, and they didn’t really have the power to do that. This topic, which is seemingly really popular in most parts of the world, has people arguing everywhere for certain amounts of time, and he just couldn’t find the will to care about these things.

 

Another popular mention in the world, too popular it seems, is the idea of love.

 

Oh, and just how complex is the romantic emotion of love?

 

Easier done than said some say.

 

The process of falling in love is so intricate, that Mike could get exhausted just thinking about it.

 

The hard thing about falling in love is that you never know when you do, or if you do, the emotion just hits you when you don’t even know it, like a tiny firework goes off in your mind, enough so you could start feel the butterflies caged in your stomach, and you wake up, and suddenly your heart says, “yep, that’s the one,” but it’s not you who’s saying it, it’s your heart. Here comes the stress of falling into love.

 

If you fall in love, and you don’t know it, then how are you supposed to tell that person that you love them?

 

The words ‘i love you’ itself is enough complicated, but the phrase ‘I’m in love with you’ is a whole completely different story. The differences in both terms are too extensive to explain with just words, and if you’re lucky enough to experience it, you can be one of the few who understands it. Some say that it’s beautiful, some say the complete opposite, but it all depends on the person you’re falling for. Love, as Mike soon learned, is not just a word to be carelessly thrown around. You could say ‘i love you’ to your partner, even if you don’t truly mean it because you know that is what they want to hear, which brings us back to the phrase “easier said than done.”

 

There is much more detail to falling in love, never-ending concepts, how it feels, but if I went on, it would take forever to fill every single aspect of it, the pain of falling, but it’s the reason why we fall. We don’t say we progress into love because love hurts. Love is elaborate, love is mad, but it gives you sanity. Maybe that’s one thing in the world that Mike understood a tiny fraction of.

 

But the number one thing that Mike never really knew, that he never knew he needed to understand, is why his cheeks go all red when Will Byers and Mikes fingers brush at the dinner table.

 

-Or why his heartbeat quickens when Will Byers giggles and laughs, especially if Mike is the cause of that contagious laugh.

 

How Mike suddenly forgets what air is when their eyes meet, and he is greeted with dirty forest-green eyes, _ his _ eyes, and gets to take in what he can between the limited boundaries, his soft, yet shrewd stare, his chromatic irises pinning Mike in his place, making him shiver.

 

And why he now notices the little things that Will does, like how he sways when he’s nervous, nibbling at the eraser of his No. 2 pencil during an exam, how gentle he is with serious subject matters, and how he rocks back and forth on his heels when he waits for his mom to pick him up from school, and all of the other things that make Will, William. The uniqueness of him brings Mike back to earth when he’s zoned out, and his balance of masculinity and femininity would make him speechless - no - it makes him weak. His brain and his body shut down altogether and his tongue suddenly doesn’t remember what language to speak.

 

Yet, he has had no idea where all these impressions were coming from, or that they were even there to begin with.

 

He had no idea that he had a small, tiny, super mini crush on his best friend.

 

Typical, as Mike was as oblivious as a moth flying towards a brightly lit lightbulb.

 

He never acknowledged these things, thinking them as confusing as politics, or love, or any of that useless bull, and for a long time, he ignored and excused this as an irrational phase, suppressing his signs of emotion towards his best-friend, pretending that his body didn’t swell with need each time that Will was in his line of sight or presence. He pretended for a long time that it wasn’t agonizing in the slightest bit, and it didn’t make his teeth grind with fake enthusiasm, when Will shared stories of him and other boys the he thought were ‘cute’, boys that weren’t Mike, and will never be Mike.

 

Maybe that feeling has been there all along? Maybe he was just too blinded to see it, maybe he was actually blinded by the plain fact that Will and him will never be more than best friends, so he’s kept the idea of ever getting the slightest chance with Will in the back of his mind. He’s tried for years to overcome the mere idea that he likes Will, as more of a friend, more than just a best friend, but was hard to keep these thoughts squashed down when these feelings were just  _ pleading  _ to be felt. 

 

But lately, the notion has usually been in the front of his mind.

 

He’s thinking of it right now as we speak.

 

But it’s not some glorious, haloed daydream where him and Will share moments that could always be replayed, wherever, whenever, without a single hesitation or doubt in the world like he normally has.

 

No, no, no, it was far from that.

 

A certain something came in the way of him having those types of daydreams, those types of daydreams that made it seem like he was high on ecstasy, and almost, but didn’t quite, make him believe that life was just about that easy, and gave him the confidence to want to march up to Will’s house and confess all, and have no trouble in doing so.

 

It’s a miracle how such a beautified thing, seeming so heavenly, even if just part of the imaginative mind, could crumble and reveal a true version of Mike Wheelers idea of a living nightmare in just seconds, no mercy shown on the nightmarish part. He could just barely, actually hear the screaming voices of the earlier daydream, them begging not to be whisked away in the midst of this perfect fabrication of a fantasy. The terror and snap of reality was like falling through an abyss in the Earth, a fall with no end, his screaming ignored as it gets darker, and darker, and darker within each meter. The truth seemed so unbelievably distorted that Mike was straining his vocal cords, trying with all his might not to mimic the echoing shouts of the ones in his head. 

 

When Will - the person that hadn’t meant all that much to him while Mike still had his chances to be with him - had just gotten a boyfriend.

 

And no, not just a guy that’s your friend - a  _ boyfriend _ , as in,  _ romantically evolved  _ feelings boyfriend.

 

They’re  _ together. _

 

Dating.

 

And in that moment, when Will was telling the party about him, after finishing a movie, The Breakfast Club - watching it for what seemed like the hundredth time after the premiere, and the party left the theater, not at all disappointed - on a Friday night, at 11:03 p.m. in Mike’s reputable basement. It was the smallest and shortest moment, like someone switched on a light on a section of his brain, the glow of the enlightened realization shining behind his eyes, relieving his blindness.

 

He was supposed to be happy for Will, he should not be left feeling like this, left feeling a whip of an ungenerous mix of pique and jealousy, becoming nauseated altogether.

 

“So, what’s his name?” Interjects Dustin, genuinely interested.

 

Mike caved in on himself, making himself smaller, sinking into the cushions of the fat couch, trying not to engage in the conversation, yet wanting to appear as he is listening as well.

 

The others don’t join Mike in his internal, selfish self-pity that it wasn’t his name that were to come out of his mouth. Instead, the others chose to not pay any mind to him and chose to lean in closer to the boy who has certainly gathered their attention. 

 

“Isaac.” Will stated, not calmly, but assuredly. Mike doesn’t know how he managed to keep the absolute annoyance that had almost poured out of him inside at the sound of that stupid name that would now spark a flicker of dread whenever said. It did not change that Mike was horrified of the pure fact that the boy of his dreams now for sure, would never, ever, be his.

 

“Is he cute?” asked Jane, leaning in closer to Will side, not wanting to miss the answer that she would definitely use to taunt him in the future. Oh, boy, did Mike definitely not want to hear the answer to that question, the answer, one that Mike probably already knew, would be powerful enough to rupture what little of his pride he had left.

 

A breathy, but not shameful, “Yes,” followed by teasing  _ oohs _ and rosey  _ awwes. _

 

Now, hearing it being confirmed by the brunette himself, was enough to make his lungs feel clogged with cotton, not enough room to breathe. He didn’t mind this, not wanting to drag too much attention to himself by rather abruptly slipping into the basement bathroom.

 

“When did it happen?” Max chimes in.

 

“When did what happen?”

 

“Come on, you know Byers, when did you two-”  _ kissy face, kissing noises _ , “click?”

 

“Only a couple of days ago.” He responded.

 

_ Only a couple of days ago did Mike miss the chance to become his. _

 

“A couple of days ago!” exclaimed Lucas, “how have we not met him yet!”

 

“He still wasn’t very comfortable with sharing  _ us _ with other people yet, so I gave him his time,” Will said, defending his now boyfriend, Mike was running low on air when he heard Will use the word ‘us’ to describe them, bitterness and envy for this ‘Isaac’ coursing in his veins, the news holding his neck in a chokehold.

 

“-but trust me, I would’ve told you guys right away if he felt differently about it.”

 

“Fair point.” say Lucas, the slightest bit of defeat in his vocals.

 

“So, when are we going to meet Isaac?” asked Max.

 

“Whenever he wants to I guess-”

 

“Does he treat you well?” Jane cuts in, her stern side taking over.

 

Will sighs, and does what is Mike assumes is an eye-roll, “Well, would I be dating him if he didn’t?”

 

“You never know, he could’ve bribed you into it,”

 

“Why in God’s name would anyone bribe someone into a secret, gay relationship-”

 

Mike can’t keep control of his breathing anymore, but none of them notice, and suddenly he’s trembling all over, as if an earthquake was caused by Will’s words, words that Will didn’t even know were slowly causing an imaginary rift to form in the nightmarish organ in his body that uses the name ‘heart.’

 

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” Mike interrupts, getting up, his voice quivers as he chokes the words out, his esophagus seeming too swollen to get any airflow, and everyone turns their heads, and they’re finally aware of Mike, which was not at all what he wanted. When they look at his state, the sweat starting to form on the base of his eyebrow, the way his chest is rising up and down at a dangerously rapid pace, and his breaths coming out in short puffs, they share confused looks, eyebrows raising in concern of what has gotten into the boy. They watch on as he shudders and wobbles, and in a drunken way, makes his way to the bathroom, trying, but failing to walk in a straight line.

 

When he gets the door of the bathroom locked, his pulse is thrumming and banging in his neck, a pain grows in the back of his skull, his lips quiver and his chin follows. A series of chills run through his spine, making him squirm an endless amount of times. He balances his body by putting his weight on the bathroom sink.

 

He feels like he’s going to die.

 

This is what death feels like.

 

He tries to look up at himself in the mirror, but couldn’t find the strength to. His mind is tingling with fatigue, and his fingers feel numb. He starts to cry.

 

He’s having another panic attack.

 

Over a  _ boy _ ?

 

Mike slides off the sink to plop down on the tile floor. He hugs his knees, buries his face in his hands and continues to cry.

 

He tries to calm himself down, to control his breathing, but he just can’t.

 

It’s feels like his soul has been permanently ripped from reality.

 

It’s not like panic attacks are a daily thing for him. Yeah, he’s had them before, but this one is different. It’s the most of a heavy weight of distress than he’s ever felt before, and he just can’t stop, it’s not stopping. 

 

He tries to find his happy place, like his mother says when he’s having another one of his episodes of panic, but his thoughts turn to Will. Will, who’s usually the solution to this type of situation, the first thing his thoughts turn to when his mother says in her honey-like tone, “Michael, just breathe, it’s alright, you’re alright, just picture your paradise, find your happy place,” Will is now the cause of that situation, and he feels like he is being stabbed when he reminds himself that William has a  _ new  _ and  _ improved _ boyfriend. And if Will liked him like that, wouldn’t he have asked?

 

_ No,  _ Mike thinks,  _ He doesn’t even know you’re like him. _

 

Thinking of Will now, he finds that his chest and throat only constrict tighter, and now he is choking in his own cries, his lungs warring for oxygen. His sobs come out shaky, yet as quiet as his lulls would let him (which wasn’t very quiet, mind you), not wanting the others to hear and start asking questions. If they heard, they weren’t stupid, he couldn’t just tell them to brush it off, no, they would do the exact opposite. As his tears drench his face, and crying only makes breathing harder with the hiccups, his stomach drops farther down, all the while his heart breaks a little more.

 

The most wretched part about all this is that Will doesn’t even know of Mike’s feelings for him, so why should he be crying. Mike’s not even sure of his sexual orientation for christ's sake. He doesn’t  _ understand  _ it. This isn’t fair to Will. All he did was find a man to call ‘mine’, he didn’t do anything wrong besides achieve a teenage dream of many. He should be happy for Will, he wants what’s best for Will, and here Mike is, crying in his own shattered desire that he conjured up, all in his self-serving tears. Flashes of self-hatred passed through his brain, making the tears flow down quicker, flooding his face like a broken dam.

 

These past few months of pining after the boy, his speculation of yearning for Will without even knowing it, was finally established and stamped into his brain.

 

He liked-liked Will.

 

A boy.

 

And it took Will getting a boyfriend before he finally realized it. He was such a  _ fool. _

 

Different scenarios started climbing to the surface of his foggy head, making the panic rise once more. A wrecking-ball of anxiety slammed into him and he couldn’t grasp the thought before it hit. There is the pressure of telling his parents, which he knew for sure would try to seek help for him, like it’s something to be hospitalized for, like a  _ sickness _ , he certainly didn’t want that. There would be problems with bullies, and things were already bad enough, but what would happen if the school found out he was queer? 

 

Mike already knew the cruel insults spitting from Troy’s mouth, every hour, every day, and he starts shivering at the thought. Troy takes pleasure into making the whole party’s life miserable, he calls them names like it’s a contest, wearing great pride in his callous insolence like he’s won a gold medal when he sees that all of them frown in defeat, or when he gets to embarrass them all in front of the school, like it’s an achievement, like it’s on his bucket list. It’s a little pathetic actually. How Troy dedicates most of his time on school days to tormenting them and making their days feel like what Mike what assumed was hell, dependent on bringing a frown to at least one of their faces, following them all around the school, taunting them, all the while he claims to not be able to stand them all.

 

_ Awwe, Frogface joined the Fairy in fairyland, how cute! _

 

_ How come you can’t get any girls Wheeler? Oh, that’s right! You’re queer! _

 

_ When are you and Fairy Boy gonna have your first date? _

 

_ Nancy Boy. _

 

_ Princess. _

 

_ Queer. _

 

_ Fruitcake. _

 

_ Fairy. _

 

_ Faggot. _

 

Mike knew there was a whole book of possibilities for names for him to be labeled by, and his self-confidence was too little to take much of it. But Will was strong. That’s what Mike admired most about Will. Even after the possession of the Mind Flayer, Will was still the vigorous, polite, independent kid on Mirkwood. All that changed about him was, he thought that it was time that he’d stop letting people think that just because he went through literal hell and back, doesn’t mean that he needs the pity and have people walk on thin eggshells around him. And it definitely does not mean that he’s any weaker, or fragile than he was before.

 

Will is  _ dynamic _ unlike Mike.

 

One day, Will showed up to Hawkins High School, they were all 14, and he had a completely different air of boldness. He vaguely showed off his sexuality (he was still not out), walking with a flare of sassiness and poise, leaving everybody stunned, even the party, when he would hold up his middle finger to boys and girls who whispered about him. Would shrug off Troy’s crude comments and simply walked away. Mike thinks that from that day forward is when he really fell for Will, fell really hard.

 

Mike holds a memory when Will got pushed over the edge by Troy, probably tired of having to hear his constant insults about him being gay (he was still not out).

 

_ Will was walking to their second period with Dustin and Mike, when, not for the first time, a certain bully called from behind them, “Hey Byers, sucked any dicks lately?” _

 

_ All of them freeze, Will just sulks, sighs, then turns around to face the familiar voice of Troy. _

 

_ As their daily tormentor approaches the three boys, he chuckles, entertained by their forlorn expressions and says, “What? Too pussy to fight back, girly-boy?” looking at Will dead in the eye.  _

 

_ Their blood-flow comes to a stop as they notice people piling around the boys, as they weren’t interested in attracting attention, and stirring up drama, especially this early in the morning. But Troy always takes pleasure and delight into contradicting the party any chance he gets.  _

 

_ Will stays silent a moment, and the crowd around them does the same, waiting for the boy to break down and run away crying, for his two friends to stand up for him, anything. _

 

_ However Will proves the hungry crowd wrong, and he just smirks, an execrable smirk, one that made Troy’s amused and smug grin disappear, yet his impression of arrogance still lingers. _

 

_ With Will’s grin still apparent on his face, he just shrugs, “Well, you know what they say, you are what you eat,” his grin grew wider, a grin that resembled that of the Cheshire Cat, and his voice was more complacent and hostile than Troy’s ever was, “which is probably why you’re such a dick to everyone.” Will finished, turning on his heels, Dustin and Mike making sure that their chortles were heard by a dumbfounded Troy. Everyone broke into a fit of snickers and giggles at Will’s witty response, but they were also surprised that the boy stood up for himself this time. Sure, what he responded with was probably not the best response possible, one that would very likely get his ass kicked later on when Troy builds up his dignity again, but a response that would definitely get the school talking.  _

 

Mike opens his eyes, and smiles to himself sadly, sitting on the floor in his own disgusting dried up snot and tears. He finds that his lungs are no longer compact with concrete, and that he can breathe again. He takes a deep breath in and out, but it still passes his lungs and comes out as a trembly sigh of relief. Exhaustion exchanges with the earlier panic, and he slumps forward, his head between his knees, trying to take up all the clean oxygen he could to replace the grimy, old air that intoxicated his lungs. 

 

Mike just sat there, he didn’t know what time it was, probably late, everyone was probably asleep by now, which gave him time to let the entirety of the situation sink in. After all the uncalled-for panic and anxiety was washed away and he could calmly and composedly collect the basic facts of his lovely predicament. 

 

He liked a boy.

 

No, not  _ just _ a boy.

 

His best-friend.

 

Who now has a _ boyfriend. _

 

_ Well, shit.  _ Mike thought.

 

And as Mike was just about to have another infamous episode of his enfeeble anxiety at the thought of the fact that liked another man, he heard a knock at the door.

 

His eyes shot up to the door, and his panic rose, yet again.

 

_ No one _ could see him like this.

 

Especially if it was Will _. _

 

If Mike has to guess, he probably looked like a frightening disarray of chaos.

 

His eyes were probably bloodshot red from all his muffled sobbing, his hair was a tangled jungle of curls, his cheeks and the button of his nose were flushed and crimson from the tiresome work of having to force the tears out of his salt-distended eyes. His shirt, disheveled and wrinkled from being trapped between his tear-stained jeans and his stomach.

 

“Mike, are you in there?” A soft and feminine, yet hoarse voice interrupts his thoughts.

 

Mike’s pulse stopped throbbing against his veins, frozen in time, a pause hit by the familiar voice of the words that came out of the mouth of Eleven, Jane.

 

_ Oh shit, oh fuck. _

 

“Mike?”

 

It’s almost like he’s paralyzed.

 

He can’t move.

 

He’s caught between the idea of getting up, unlocking, and answering the door to avoid causing the girl worry, or to just stay planted and not let her in because he most definitely does not want her to see him like this. Knowing Jane, the way he looked right now would raise alarm, which would cause her to press and ask questions, and when he wouldn’t tell her, she’d pull that “friends don’t lie” phrase that she loves to use when the party doesn’t tell her things, and has been using this phrase since Mike has taught it to her so many years ago. He’s not ready to tell her yet, he doesn’t want anybody to know yet, he’s not even  _ sure _ about this yet, not at all -

 

“Okay, I’m coming in.”

 

The lock of the doorknob started to unlock gradually, nobody touching it, nobody near it, and if Mike didn’t know any better, he’d think it was a ghost that was being instructed by El to turn the lock. But Mike did know better, and he always forgot that Eleven had those telekinetic abilities. She doesn’t use them much anymore, now that they’re not always running from danger, and fighting off the paranormal from alternate dimensions, but she still has them, and uses them when she wants to. Just simple things, like switching the T.V. channels, making things levitate towards her so she doesn’t have to get them herself, occasionally tripping and messing with Troy and his goons for the entertainment of the party, and throwing things at people out of anger, which is one reason you should never tip her over her boiling point.

 

The doorknob turned, a motion that could only be so delicately and gracefully done by Jane herself, and the door was pushed open a little, just a perfect space for her head to fit through. Soon, her head peeked from behind the door, and she was greeted with the sight of a pain-stricken and worn looking Mike. As soon as she took in his appearance, her face twisted into a look of a fair share of confusion and concern.

 

After disappearing behind the door again to check if anyone was awake or not, when she saw the cost was clear and everyone was passed out, their stomachs over-loaded with stale popcorn, still-salvageable halloween candy, and carbonated coca-cola, most of them in their sleeping bags (Max and Dustin sprawled out on the couch, a half empty bowl of popcorn still apparent in Dustin’s lap, pieces of popped-corn and kernels in Max’s bush that she calls her hair), she carefully tiptoed through the door before closing it, her baby-pink pajama clad body no longer hidden behind the door, and she leisurely stepped over to the corner where Mike was, and Mike shifted uncomfortably closer against the wall as El came closer, trying to hide and shrink under a figurative shadow to remain unseen, yet also to seem unbothered.

 

She didn’t ask any questions, she just invited herself to take a seat next to Mike on the tiled floor, criss-crossing her legs, and after a few moments of El keeping her eyes locked on Mike, unbearable silence screaming in Mike’s eardrums and banging through his skull - some of Dustin's obnoxious snoring audible through the wood-thin door - Mike tried his hardest to look nonchalant, and to not sniff and wipe his excess snot and tears, looking anywhere but at Jane.

 

It was when she broke the silence that he freaked out.

 

“Mike-” she said tenderly, her voice slashing aggressively like a knife through the quietness, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

 

“Before you say anything,” He started, scooting away from her touch, pushing her hand away, “I know I look horrible right now, but you cannot tell the others.”

 

“We already know, Mike.”

 

“What? What do you mean you already know?”

 

“You cry really loud. We heard you.”

 

Mike groaned, “Oh my  _ shit _ .” he said, tucking his face in his hands, his voice guttural and husky from his crying and his recovery from having little to no air trapped in his lungs.

 

“It’s okay, Mike, we didn’t talk about it that much, but you were in here for a while.” she said with compassion, noticing his embarrassment, yet she didn’t tell him that in the little that they talked about him crying, they all combined their suspicions, thinking of reasons why their friend went to cry in the bathroom after Will confessed his dating status.

 

“I just -” He said, his brain not catching up with his words quick enough, “Whatever conversation that we’re gonna have, it stays in here, alright?”

 

“Okay, Mike.”

 

“Promise?” He asked holding out his pinky finger, a new trick that Mike taught El to go along with the word.

 

“Promise.” She answered affirmatively, hooking her own pinky finger with his.

 

“So exactly how long have I been in here?” He questioned, his panic attack making time go slower and faster all the same, that in the end, he just let the minutes run wild.

 

“It’s 2:27 a.m.” She replied, willing to answer any question that her friend throws at her.

 

_ God _ ,  _ he’s been in here for almost 3 hours?  _

 

“Mike,” She said, his name on her tongue like a feather in the wind.

 

“Yeah, El?” He said, her name on his lips like a wave crashing onto shore.

 

“Why were you crying?” She asked out of genuine concern for her friend who doesn’t seem in his best state, not out of pity. And through the years, she learned that friends, and more -  _ best friends -  _ should always be there for each other, and they should be able to count on you for anything, and you them. And though she’s only been in the party for less years than the boys have, she found that it doesn’t matter how long that you’ve known them, but that they’re by your side through everything, and that’s exactly what she wants to be able to do with the party. Right now, Mike needs her, and she wants to be by his side, even if he thinks he’s alone.

 

This is it, this is the conversation that he’s been wanting to avoid ever since El walked into the bathroom. But this question, like most, is unavoidable, and it would slide right into a conversation that he wasn’t really willing to have.

 

“Do I have to tell you?” whined Mike.

 

“Well, I’d like to know.”

 

“So I don’t have to tell you.” He said, absolutely wishing - no -  _ praying  _ that she won’t make him say it out loud.

 

“Mike, friends don’t lie.” she said, her voice still in a state of breathtaking softness, and oddly calm, given their situation. Maybe she just wants to sooth him by not panicking.

 

There it is, the saying. ‘Friends don’t lie.’ Now he can’t wiggle his way out of this, there’s no way out. These words are like a gun, pointing the barrel at his forehead practically, and if he were to lie now, she might as well pull the trigger.

 

“I know they don’t!” He yelled, his voice cracking in exasperation. She jumped at how his voice so suddenly raised, she wasn’t one to have people yelling at her, she has never liked people using their voices to seem dominant. 

 

Mike noticed the way she jumped at the sound of his raised voice, and guilt spread through every cell and bone in his body. He had to remind himself that this was El, and he had to keep control of his lack of patience and his ability to get irritated easily. She’s only trying to be a good friend, she’s still learning how, but he knows she’s trying. So as an attempt to seem calm, he lowered his voice a notch, to a more lax and mellow tone.

 

“Sorry,” He apologized, knowing someone could have woken up, “I-it’s just, It’s hard to explain without making it sound weird.”

 

El made a face that told Mike that she was not impressed, “Oh come on, Mike. We’ve faced monsters from alternate dimensions, and demons that have the power to possess someone, and take over their bodies. Do you really think I’ll be weirded out by whatever you’ll say?”

 

“Sorry to burst your bubble El, but this is  _ way  _ different than fighting supernatural creatures from the upside down. This isn’t a choice of life or death, or trying to save the world from total destruction, this is  _ real life _ El. Personal, growing up stuff.”

 

El frowned, not amused what-so-ever with her friends’ uncooperativeness, “I can handle growing up stuff just as _well_ as closing gates to parallel universes. I mean, yeah, I spent almost half my life trapped inside a laboratory, my interaction with the outside world was cut-off during that time, well, besides my _God forsaken_ ‘Papa’,” she added air quotes for dramatic effect, “but that’s why I need to learn, Mike. This could be a learning experience for me. I’ve gotten most of my childhood robbed from me, and I’m still growing up, and that’s why I need to catch up. I want to know what growing is like, not just what it is.”

 

“I think you forgot the ‘personal’ part,” Mike ridiculed, titling his head away from El’s direction, still stubborn and keen on not tell his friend his newfound secret.

 

“Stop stalling.” Eleven said, getting tired of trying persuading Mike to tell him why he’s been crying in the bathroom. She wants to be a good friend. She need to be a good friend.

 

When he didn’t respond and just kept his head turned away from her, his breathing going a little bit uneven, she said again, “Friends don’t lie, Mike.” and the softness that was in her voice before had dropped, and her tone went lower, a tone that told Mike that she wasn’t kidding around with him, and that this is something really important to her. She was getting ticked off now.

 

He finally turned his head to her, and his eyes had a glint of some kind of emotion in them.

 

Was he overwhelmed?

 

Uneasy?

 

Was it  _ fear _ ?

 

She was so sure it was, and if it was, was he afraid of letting out the answer to her continuous questions and pressing?

 

Was he afraid of letting her know?

 

Was he fearful of  _ her _ ?

 

“Is it a lie if I haven’t even told you a lie yet?” Mike asked, and she could see the pleading in his eyes, his pupils swarming for some way out of this situation, and she saw a glossy pool starting to form at the base of his eyelids. She noticed it, but she let her curiosity win over her friends unwillingness to answer the question that shouldn’t be that hard to reply to. Unless it’s  _ that _ bad.

 

“Friend’s tell the truth.” She said, letting her demanding voice purposely slip into an innocent and calmer tone, knowing that she wouldn’t get anywhere with him if she were to be aggressive, “Don’t keep secrets.”

 

“I really don’t want to say it El-”

 

“Especially best-friends.” she pressed, feeling a bit culpable as she saw a tear start to roll down his cheek, and he tried to collectively wipe it away.

 

He sighed, and from then on, she knew that she had put his guard down, and he accepted his defeat, giving in to what she wanted. She let a victorious smile crook at her lips as he started, “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.”

 

“But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not Max, not Steve, not Nancy, and especially not Will.” he said with a pleading voice that was enough to tell her that this was somewhat very important to him, for various reasons. And she caught on to the way that MIke had told her to especially not tell Will. Why not? Weren’t they best friends? Haven’t they known each other for more days than she could count?

 

“Remember, whatever conversation we have in here, stays here, understand?” He said demandingly, raising El’s suspicions even higher.

 

“I know Mike, I promise, I understand.” She replied affirmatively to make him sure that he could trust her.

 

‘“Oh God, I’m so fucked.” He thought out loud, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, making him choke on his own breathing.

 

El made a look of confusion. Everything, all the information she had from him was so jumbled. Nothing was adding up in her mind. Why especially not tell Will? What’s so bad, or important that he couldn’t even tell the party? Why was he fucked? What did he do? What fucked up thing did he do that was so bad, that he had to cry about it in the bathroom for a whole three hours? Why was he so reluctant on telling her?

 

She tenderly placed her hand on his shoulder and scooted closer to him, and this time he didn’t pull away. She was trying to comfort him, trying to calm him, and it seemed to do the job. Something about her fingers on his skin seemed to stop his trembling and his horrid, rapid breathing. She wanted him to know that she was listening that she was doing everything she could to try and make this easy for him, just without actually saying words? Kind of, telepathically? Through her feather-like touch?

 

His foot fell asleep an hour ago. God, what was he even doing? El was taking time out of her morning just to see if he was okay, she was doing that right. But she doesn’t even have to do it and that is what’s glorious about her. She was willing to. Willing to listen to her friend mope around the bathroom, listen to his puzzling complications. But what was he doing? All he was doing was making their lives more tortuous than they already are. Stupid him.  _ Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Ignorant, oblivious him.  _ With his hands between his knees already, he took to pinching the inside of his leg as punishment, his numb leg, the one that fell asleep. He tried not to flinch, as El was staring at him still, but she didn’t seem to notice the twitch of his eye and how his leg jerked when the skin was being jabbed between his nails.

 

With a deep breath he finally let out, “I think I might like boys.” he stated. There it was. He said it. There’s no going back, it’s there. Oh my-

 

“Well of course you like boys, you are one aren’t you?,” she said, slightly befuddled, “And you’re friends with boys too. Lucas, Dustin, Will-”

 

Mike paused, “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant,” he said, a tiny bit amused as to what El thought he was trying to signify, “Like, I have feelings for boys.”

 

“Feelings?” She asked, now fully confused.

 

“Yeah, like when you and I dated,” he set this as an example, but still visibly cringed in sync with her, “Except it’s with boys.”

 

“Oh,” she said, finally understanding what Mike was trying to confess to her, “So, you’re like Will and Isaac?”

 

“I mean I guess so,” he answered, uneasy with the indication of Will and Isaac’s relationship, and for a split selfish second, he thought,  _ It’s supposed to be Will and me _ .

 

He still doesn’t really know if he still likes girls. Yeah, he’s liked Will for a long time now, and though he’s just come to accept it, the feelings were always there. And Will is a boy, which means he has the ability to have a relationship with the same gender. Though, he has thought of girls in the same way as well. Like with Ashley Kimper a couple months ago. Even when his attraction to Will was still there, he went into a relationship with her for a couple of months until they broke it off. He did like her, she was nice, she was pretty as well, he was attracted to her in many ways than one. So was he gay? Was he straight? He didn’t know. Is it even possible to like both genders?

 

“So why did you cry? You know everyone would be totally fine with it since Will’s gay.” She said, and he realized she doesn’t know the full story yet, she doesn’t know that he’s got a crush on Will yet, and that was enough to get him shuddering again.

 

“But that’s isn’t why I cried, El.” He exhaled his response, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself, trying to not let fresh tears stain his face. If he keeps letting them flow, he thinks that his sleeve will be too sopping wet with his salty fluids to absorb anymore.

 

“But then why else would you-” she stops mid sentence.

 

Realization hits her like a bullet, and suddenly it all adds up. The not telling Will, the being gay, the crying right after Will told them he’s dating someone. Mike likes Will. Has a crush on Will. Who has a boyfriend. Oh.

 

“Oh.” She says, starting another sentence. She looks at him, really looks at him, with full understanding and smiles. It’s Mike’s turn to get confused now because her smile is a bit smug, and she has a small glint of triumph in her eyes that he just can’t pinpoint.  _ What he doesn’t know is that she and Will had a very similar conversation only 8 months ago.  _ But she doesn’t tell him that.

 

She spoons him up for a hug, and he’s grateful that she puzzled the pieces together for him before she made him say it. He uncurls his body to get in a more comfortable position, and he hugs her back. He nuzzles his face into the affectionate and warm embrace and he catches a strange scent of vanilla mixed with buttered popcorn in the material of her pajamas. Yet the tears still come, and as soon as Jane feels a wet, warm substance plop on her shoulder, the smugness is wiped away and replaced with a more compassionate smile. 

 

He’s glad that he’s finally told someone, relieved that he could finally share his thoughts with someone who understands and wont judge him for it. Sure, his ex might have not been the best idea to spill his newfound crush to, but she wouldn’t have been the first one he’d tell if she didn’t keep pressing. And again, El understood, not as in, she shares the same experiences understanding, but the kind you would get from somebody who cares. Sympathy. Consolation. Mike thinks it’s the reason he took her in and trusted her so quickly. Because she was so innocent at the time, and still had time to learn the line between doing good and bad. 

 

The tears fall because now he has to deal with his heart aching whenever he sees Will and Isaac together. He hopes to God that he never sees him, he doesn’t want to act like he’s happy for Will when he really isn’t. He means that he is happy for Will, but _he's_ not happy himself . Acting has never been his strong suit. The tears fall because he realizes how foolish he is. He could’ve asked Will any time, he’s had many chances, yet he’s never used any of them because he’s never thought of it until now. Until Will finally got a boyfriend of his own. Even if he did ask, and Will said no, he would’ve lived on knowing he at least tried. It’s not Will’s fault though, he doesn’t know Mike is the way he is. He doesn’t know that Mike is like him. Will very likely doesn’t even like him like that. Just as a friend, and nothing more. And lastly, the tears fall because of his envy for this new Isaac. He hasn’t even met him yet, but he knows for sure that he’s not going to have a fun ride with him. His jealousy might get the best of him one day and he might lash out at them. What if his resentfulness towards the couple is counted as homophobia? What if that ends his friendship with Will and all the other party members? That would kill him. Spilt him apart and make him go six-feet under without even literally dying. It would hurt like hell. A hurricane of ‘what if’s and ‘do’s and ‘don'ts’ flood his brain and keep him preoccupied while still in El’s encouraging and loving arms. He keeps crying until he’s exhausted and worn from the night’s activities, and she lets him cry on her. She lets him dump a whole pool full of problems into her hands, and though the impact is strong, and the shock is real, she holds the problems as if they were her own, and he finds solace in that. While his inaudible sobs bounce off the bathroom walls, she tenderly rubs her hand up and down his back to soothe him, almost in a mother-like way, and she uses her other hand to brush it gently though his coal-black hair, rocking them back and forth, until his cries and hiccups die down to the even breathing of someone sleeping. They both passed out on the floor of the bathroom in each others arms. Through the night they shift to more comfortable positions, ending up with El laying her head on the bathroom mat to use as a cushion, and his head under the tip of her chin, his back pressed against her stomach. Her laying next to him, warming him like a blanket, like protection. Protection that he didn’t even know he needed. They didn’t utter a word about the intimacy of it, for it was all platonic. Just a very good, close friend looking out for their best-friend.


	2. Even the Ripest Seeds: Will (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendships are what keeps you going. At least for Will Byers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long. I had a lot going on, but I promise you I'm going to be working on part 2 and I'm going to post it as soon as possible. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I really liked working on it.
> 
> TW: Homophobic slurs.

I should be dead for the amount of times my heart has skipped beats for you.

 

==

 

Will Byers was always a very curious person.

 

Always looking for explanations to things, and looking so far into the tiniest of problems.

 

Some might say that he just worried too much about things, and if they did, he might even be as curious as to ask why they thought he ‘worried’ a lot.

 

-but no. Worried wouldn’t be the word to describe Will’s eagerness to obtain information that has not been told to him yet, or learning things he hasn’t. Will just thinks that people somehow confuse the words ‘worry’ and ‘curiosity.’

 

He thinks that, maybe, since he asks so many questions to issues, even when people are disinclined to tell him, they may think that he’s so disturbed by the unease of not knowing how to help them or fix it.

 

The truth and reality of it is, he just really wants to get to know people better. Know their complications, know their thoughts, know how he can help those troubles. If they get annoyed or put-off by all the questions he asks, that already tells him a little bit about themselves, and that alone could get his interest peaked and could distract him with questions begging to be answered all day long.

 

As a curious boy, his inquisitiveness has made him immensely insightful and attentive to himself and the things around him.

 

As he grew, his curiosity grew. He became more aware of his friends, noticing when they’re angry or sad, noticing when they just want people to fuck-off, and noticing when they just want attention. He just goes over to them and gives them what they want, or does whatever it takes to help them feel better. He he hears them even when they don’t say anything. He understands them when they don’t want to talk about things. He knows what his best-friends need before they even tell him.

 

Maybe that’s why he’s earned the name of the most-caring of the bunch.

 

What he was most curious about right now was why Mike and Jane were sleeping on the bathroom floor together.

 

He was just waking up, and when he checked the clock, he saw it was only 7:42 a.m. and he brought his fingers up to his face to rub his still half-asleep eyes.  When he removed his hands, strobes of holographic orbs crowded his vision, but when they cleared, he looked around and he woke up to the same aroma and scent that he smelled when he drifted to sleep. Old, dry, buttered popcorn, and the murky fog from January rain, the remains of the droplets still loiter on Mikes basement window.  He yawns, and is greeted with the sickening smell of his morning breath, but when he looked over and saw that the sleeping bag next to him was empty (Mike’s sleeping bag), he guessed he wasn’t the only one up this early in the morning.

 

-But then he became aware of the empty sleeping bag next to Max’s (Jane’s sleeping bag), and his brain was suddenly pounding with the amount of questions that overflowed it. 

 

_ Why are Mike and Jane out of bed? _

 

_ What might they be doing together? _

 

_ Are they even together? _

 

_ Why this early in the morning? _

 

_ Fuck it, I need to take a piss. _

 

He got up from his sleeping bag, and steadily walked over to the bathroom door, trying not to make the floorboards creak, not wanting to disturb the others from their sleep.

 

He turned the bathroom doorknob, but looked behind him to see if anyone stirred in their snooze.

 

When he saw that everybody was still snoring, and keeping still, he pushed open the door to discover what he would find normally entertaining and cute, had it not been his step-sister and his best-friend cuddling, in each other’s arms, asleep on the bathroom floor. Yet he knew he shouldn't envy, as his sister explained to the party long ago that however many times she tried, she just couldn't like people like that. Jane has tried a diversity of girls and boys to try and figure out what she likes, yet she could never find the will to feel romance towards them. They don’t know what kind of sexuality this was, and it certainly intrigued Will more than finding out he was gay ever did. Even if Jane’s sexual orientation didn’t have a name yet, they still accepted, respected, and supported her through this giant impact on her life, and they all still love her (platonically, of course) just for who she is.

 

Will wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t jealous, just mostly confused.

 

_ Why were they sleeping on the floor? _

 

More specifically:  _ Why were Mike and Jane sleeping on the floor together? _

 

He was turning around to go and use the bathroom upstairs to avoid any trouble, but as he took his first step he suddenly was unable to move. He felt paralyzed, as if he couldn’t control his own body, and he was stuck in an uncomfortable position. He absolutely despised this feeling. It brings him back to the week where the Mind Flayer used his body against him, to hurt others. When the Mind Flayer used his body as a toy, as a prop. It claimed authority of Will’s flesh and bones to do its demonic bidding. He lost himself in the fogginess of the Mind Flayer’s control. After, he vowed never to let anyone use him like that ever again. He’s vowed to be dominant, to be stronger, and not submissive to people who are capable of hurting him. So when he felt like he wasn’t in power, he usually stumbled out of his superior manner. Right now he was scared.

 

_ Why couldn’t he move? _

 

Without warning, a hand laid on his shoulder, and he gained the ability to move again. But the abruptness of it all led to him to lose his balance and topple forward before recovering his stability. He turned his head and it was Jane. Eleven. He looked at her feet and saw that she had abandoned Mike on the floor.

 

Of course it was Eleven. The one with supernatural powers. He glared at her, for she knew he didn’t like her using her powers on him, to take control over him. It made him feel small, less in control of his own body, weak even. Reminded him that there will always be someone out there who could do whatever they please with him. He’s had enough people do that.

 

“Sorry,” she said, genuinely apologizing, and realizing her mistake. She stuck her hand out for him to take to help him stand up.

 

“S’okay,” He said, accepting her hand, and her apology and getting back up on his feet. Her caramel-colored hair was frizzy and untidy, as it usually was in the morning, her large pink pajamas wrinkled and giving off an unusual mixture of sweat and tears.

 

“Just, don’t do that ever again, please?”

 

“Okay, I won’t, but Mike and I -”

 

“El, it’s fine, really. I don’t care what you and Mike were doing. Er -” He looked behind Eleven again to see Mike, who still looked so awfully gorgeous, even in slumber, and who was now sprawled out on his back on the bathroom mat.

 

“I promise, it’s not how it looks,” she looked at him, pleading him to believe her, “he wasn’t doing well, and he told me not to tell anyone what he said. He was too tired to go back outside.” she explained.

 

He was still a bit confused and now curious as to what Mike didn’t want anybody to know, but knew to respect Mike’s decision, “Is he okay?”

 

El turned her head, looking down at the softly snoring body that was behind her. His eyes swollen with tears that only fell because of Will’s equivalent obliviousness of Mike’s feelings towards him. At least they’re even now. Jane has now lost count and forgotten the amount of times she has comforted and listened to her step-brother moping around the house because of Mike, she could only hold so much emotion in her cup, and it started to over-flow because of Will. He has cried so much because of Mike that sometimes Jane just can’t help but act ice cold towards Mike. Will has spared so much unnecessary sorrow regarding his feelings for him, that Jane could hear and remember the ugly and absolutely horrid echo of her brothers poor, withered heart chipping away. Now Mike has to deal with the pain of pining after the ladder. He’ll get to know what it was like for Will - that is, if he ever finds out  _ what _ it was like for Will. And although she knows this is cruel, El has had a minuscule wish that Mike would get to know how it is to live a life as Will Byers, and now that he does, she’s quite satisfied.

 

El looked back up at Will, who was still looking down at the motionless figure of Michael Wheeler and said, nodding with assurance, “He’ll be okay.”

 

Will, who finally looked up at El, doubtfully accepted her answer, as he felt that someone sleeping on the fucking floor isn’t  _ that _ okay.

 

Though her answer was questionable, he still nodded with a smile and left the bathroom without another word. He gently closed the door behind him, the others still in their earlier positions, still in their unconscious sleeping state.

 

Stepping over the foot of Lucas’s sleeping bag he wondered what on Earth they could’ve been doing in there.

 

As he remembered, though Mike looked absolutely stunning with his disheveled leaves of hair cloaking his face, his freckles shining in the bathroom light, the light also shown some unusual features on his face that most certainly were not there beforehand.

 

His eyelids were puffed, diamond face drenched in a crimson tinted flush. Will and everyone else has heard the sobbing coming from the door of the bathroom. Muffled, yes, but still what Will would make out as sobs. The other’s may have not thought much of it, thinking it was merely him crying. But to Will, it was much more.

 

His sobs sounded almost identical to the shower of rain outside, his stops for breath and his hiccups like a crack of thunder. He thought the sobs were almost cognated to his sickeningly inconsolable meltdowns to when he was moping about Mike, as he remembered. 

 

It was almost heartbreaking.

 

Will had a strong desire to break through the door and give him a hug that would clear his thunderstorm and bring out the sun, and if it didn’t come, by God, he would yank the sun by its rays and throw it on top of the boy. Mike’s happiness meant the whole universe to him, hell, an entire galaxy worth.

 

If only he could be Mike’s sun.

 

Mike’s world that holds him together.

 

Mike’s-

 

_ No. _

 

He was getting ahead of himself again. Wishing for too much, so much that he couldn’t afford.

 

_ Mike is not yours, and you are not Mike’s. _

 

_ You have a boyfriend now. Don’t worry about that dick. _

 

He found the bathroom of the first floor and sighed while walking through the door, trotting to the toilet to do what he came here to do.

 

That was the thing about Mike.

 

He was irresistible and Will  _ hated _ it.

 

Mike was the one who made him realize he was queer after all, so he’s got to give him points for that.

 

But after the reality of him liking Mike sunk in, he just couldn’t help himself.

 

Mike was all Will’s desires and needs, all in a bodily, boyish figure. It’s a shame that he could want such a fantasy in the first place.

 

Will has planted a dangerous seed and he knows it, a seed of hunger, passion, and affection for a boy he could never even have, a seed of vulnerability to those who would use this against him.

 

The seed kept growing and Will loathed every single bit of it with a burning passion. The seedling sprouted out of the seed and blossomed into an unhealthy concoction of lust and a starvation for more than just friendship, which led to many nights spent under the covers. Afterwards, he felt like a deranged, perverted lunatic for thinking such immoral things about his best friend and swore never to do it again.

 

But his weak libido gave in, the want was too overpowering, and the cycle just kept repeating.

 

Other nights, he would just lay in bed, thinking of how sick he was for liking someone of the same gender, it was incredible, yet also insufferable how he could feel a mixture of emotions as discontent, self-disgust, loneliness, longing, and dejection all in one night. All of it caused by one single person.

 

He hated the fact that he knew he was able to be submissive when it came to Mike. He absolutely  _ despised _ that his feelings were able to be toyed around by him, that he could bring Will down to his knees without even saying anything, all the while Mike didn’t even know how much trust Will put into the boy.

 

He he pulled back up his pajama-pants, flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and looked up into the mirror.

 

_ Look at yourself, you’re weak. Idolizing and obsessing about a person who wouldn’t jump off of a cliff for you when you would do it in half a heartbeat. Loving and adoring someone who can’t even love you the way you do. Think about you the way you do. _

 

_ This is the reason you got yourself a boyfriend right? To make yourself fall for someone else? Someone who doesn’t stick needles in your heart every time you look at them and they’re not looking back? Someone who could actually love you the way you love Mike? Don’t think about Mike, your only going to sink yourself into more dirty deep shit than you already have. God, you’re so stupid, no wonder he doesn’t love you. No, stop that, you deserve better than him. _

 

This is how his mind has been lately. Before, all he could think about was how he was gay, and how Mike was straight, and how Mike could never love him, and he cried and moped around about that. But soon the sadness turned to bitterness and he was tired of giving Mike his all, he gave and he gave until he was left with nothing more, Mike involuntarily stealing it all without even knowing he was taking it. Smoking him, and burning him out like a cigarette until he was all gone. It was a one-sided love. It was toxic and harming Will. Sleepless nights spent pining for him. Will has to let go. Move on. It’s a hard process, he knows, but it’s better than having a heart that’s broken.

 

Turning away from the mirror and opening the door, he left the bathroom, already drained of emotion.

 

He was walking back downstairs to the basement to see a mess of fiery red waves visible in the bathroom doorway. He glanced around the room to note that Max wasn’t on her place in her yellow sleeping bag anymore, yet also learned that Mike was now laid out sloppily on his sleeping bag, bones protruding out of his arms, a mop of locks positioned over his eyes aplenty.

 

He strode over to the lit bathroom, just curious to take a peek at what they were doing, and saw Max from the behind, her sitting cross legged on the floor, Jane across from her, her legs brought up to her chest, back against the bowl of the bathtub, and a buoyant, shiny smile mapped out on her lips that’s always visible when she’s hanging out with Max.

 

Jane noticed Will in the light that shone through the doorway, looking over Max to him, causing Max to look behind her at Will. Max greeted Will with a sloppy grin, her stringy, red hair hanging over her face in an abundance of tangles, and she beckoned Will to come and sit with them.

 

He ended up sitting against the wall, under the sink, and they just sat in comfortable silence, all waiting of them waiting for someone to drain the quietness that flooded the room.

 

The person who drained the silence to engage in conversation was Max.

 

“So William,” the ginger said, turning to him, “whatever happened to your dear prince charming Michael Wheeler? Did your unrequited desire for him suddenly vanish into an abyss of hopelessness, and you ultimately found a human who willingly gave you love?”

 

Will snickered at Max’s terrible impersonation of an English man, “If you mean I’ve moved on then, yes. I have moved on, Maxine.”

 

“Oh, but whatever happened to your feelings that you’ve buried inside? Did you bury them deeper, or have you simply,” she thought for a minute, “lost hope, and thrown away the chance?”

 

“I mean, feelings fade. Nothing stays the same forever. If he doesn’t want me, then I’ll have to just accept it.” he said plainly.

 

For a split of a second, he thought he saw Max and El exchange weird looks to each other, like, the type of look that screams ‘oh hell-fucking no.’

 

Kind of like that look, but disguised with a smile?

 

He dismissed it and didn’t think much of the weird action.

 

“You accept this,” said Jane slowly, in her usual soft, breathy voice, “but is it what you want?”

 

_ Is it what I want?  _ Will thought to himself, looking down at his lap, hands folded into the seams of his grey plaid pajama pants. His hands clenched tighter around the fabric with every question.

 

_ Yes, it is what I want. _

 

“Yes.” he answered confidently, “it is what I want.”

 

His heart skipped a beat as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

 

Max and Jane did it again, that  _ look _ towards each other.

 

“Okay, then William.” Max said, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back, seeming to have given up trying to yank out of Will what she wants to hear. What they both want to hear.

 

“Besides, guys,” he started, grabbing their attention for one last time, “I’ll be happier this way.”

 

“As long as you’re happy, Will.” Jane said with a smile, leaning forward so her hand could overlap his.

 

“Besides,” Max said, “who cares about stupid boys anyways?”

 

In unison, they all started giggling. Their amused chuckles turned into cackles, their voices bouncing off of the tile walls. The sun was starting to come out of its hiding place behind the clouds, and the warmth was comforting. Their continuous cackles altogether apparently caused an annoyance to one of their friends, as suddenly a pillow went flying from out of nowhere and ended up striking the back of Max’s head.

 

Max turned her head to see a stony-faced Dustin, eyes wide open and his curls of hair a mess.

 

“Could you guys be any louder?” asked Dustin, voice croaky and filled with that equivalent of a bull who’s just seen the color red.

 

“Oh, sure thing, Dusty-bun!” Max sneered.

 

“ _ Turn around,”  _ She started in a sing-song voice. Specifically in the melody of the song that Dustin and his girlfriend sang when a literal demon from an alternate dimension was stomping after them. Albeit they try to avoid the topic of the monsters and the supernatural as much as possible, now they just sing the song to mock him. 

 

“Oh,  _ haha,  _ very funny, Maxine.” He replied, his irritation with his teasing friends rising at a fast pace.

 

“ _ Look at what you see,”  _ sang Max again, now joined by Will, who turned his head to face Dustin rather aggressively. Jane who was bellowing in the background, was clutching at her stomach as if it were going to fall off from how much she was laughing, she was hardly able to breathe. Laughing this much in _ no way  _ could be healthy.

 

“ _ In her face,” _

 

“You guys are still taunting me with this song? It’s been two years-”

 

“ _ The mirror of you dreams,”  _ they chanted, El now in the mix of their voices.

 

“My God, it’s too early for this-”

 

_ “Make believe I’m everywhere,”  _ El, Max, and Will teasing poor Dustin, who would describe them as headaches, worsening his annoyance by adding hand gestures. Absolutely rubbing the song with an embarrassing back-story in his face just to spite him.

 

_ “Given in the light,” _

 

“You guys are such asses, I swear,”

 

_ “Written on the pages is the answer to a never ending story!” _

 

_ “Ahh,”  _ they all caroled, though a bit disrupted by their unstoppable laughter. At that, Dustin’s middle finger flew up, his face showing no remorse. Their singing might’ve been a bit too loud, as a croaky voice cut through their pattern of singing, then it fading into giggling.

 

“Guys, I’m all for making fun of Dustin,” a woken up Lucas interrupted them, checking the clock through heavy-lidded eyes, “ _ but it’s 8:19.” _

 

“So, what? You snore like a pig, Lucas. It’s time you wake up.” Max snickered, and El and Will followed.

 

“It’s not like you snore any  _ quieter _ .” Lucas shot back

 

“I’m sorry,  _ what?  _ Could you say that again? I couldn’t hear you the first time.”

 

“I said,  _ it’s not like you snore any quieter.”  _ He repeated confidently.

 

Max, now the one exasperated, threw the pillow that Dustin previously threw at Max, to Lucas.

 

Lucas however, caught it, saying, “Awe, thanks,  _ Maxie-bear!”  _ and laying back down in his sleeping bag, putting the pillow under his head.

 

At the last straw of vexity that really represents her fiery red flames of hair, she slammed the bathroom door, crossing her arms, and huffing. El and Will witnessing it all with huge smiles on their faces, trying to keep from laughing and ruining the moment. Then she remembered Dustin. Max slowly cracked the door open again, and peeked her head out of the door to see Dustin lying stomach-down on the couch, his face buried in a pillow, sandwiched by another pillow. Max then closed the bathroom door again, and when the door was fully closed they all erupted into laughter yet again.

 

For a moment, Will was content. He forgot all of his troubles, didn’t think about Mike, or boys, or dating once. Just plain friendship. People he loved swarmed around him, a type of  _ good  _ radioactive love filled the air. He has no worries, no questions for once in his life and it felt good. Maybe life would be much easier,  _ this easy _ , and happier if he just had friends and couldn’t feel romantically towards people, if he were like El. Maybe, if life were not to bully him, it would be like this everyday. He felt that if he could get any happier than this, the sun would grow envious.

 

_ Just for a moment. _

__________

 

Oh, everyone knew he was queer.

 

Word even got to his dad in Indianapolis, which killed whatever left they had of their relationship that they could salvage. Specifically, it ended with one last phone call, one that had Will in tears, Lonnie feeding him all sorts of homophobic shit, Lonnie trying to ‘help with his disease’, and just ended with him telling Will to never call him again.

 

_ “You’re not my son, I don’t want you calling this number ever again. I fucking knew you were a fag. Shoulda’ never had you, you’re a disgrace to my name.” Lonnie said roughly through the telephone, hostility in his voice, utter disgust at the fact his son was gay. _

 

_ “Who said I wanted to call you ever again?” replied Will angrily, tears falling from his eyes with each insult, stabbing at his confidence. He hoped that Lonnie couldn’t tell he was crying, he tried to keep his guard up, he really did. But it’s hard when your father, the person who was supposed to love you since birth, disowns you.  _

 

_ “Good.” said Lonnie, hanging up and leaving Will to process what just happened. After that one syllable word, that one word, every ‘i love you’ exchanged between them meant nothing. Care was replaced with disrespect, and fear turned to hatred. In a fit of anger, he slammed their telephone back in its place, a strong loathing for himself at that moment. He yelled and he punched the wall, but right after, he quickly realized his mistake as he saw a cracked dent in the wall and heard an unsatisfying snap of his knuckles. Pain shot at his hand like a bullet, and he grasped it with his good hand as if to protect it from harm. He sat down on the wooden floor, his back to the wall, and he sobbed. Sobbed like his father just died. But that didn’t happen, no. He lost his father.  _

 

_ His father who was most definitely still alive. _

 

_ That’s the sadness of it all. _

 

_ You choose to give life to a beautiful human that you created with your partner, a human with the same eyes, same mind, same anger. They’ve known you their whole lives, not wanting to see you leave their lives only until you’ve wilted away, mixed with the dirt and soil of the ground, now part of the Earth. It is in this situation, your last breath hasn’t come yet, and you haven’t been buried six feet under. You’re still alive, and yet you still choose to walk out of the life of the person you gave life to. You leave. You brush them off as if they were a speck of dust on your shoe. _

 

_ Will suddenly felt hands around him as his throat swelled up, arms hugging him tight, rubbing at the small of his back as he weeps. _

 

_ “It’s gonna be okay.” whispers the voice of Jane Hopper. _

 

_ And he believes her. _

 

Well, that’s all in the past now. He’s gotten over it. He shouldn’t waste tears on that excuse of a father or human being anyways.

 

And though everyone knows he’s gay, not a lot of people know that he’s had a crush on his best friend for three years.

 

Only  _ four  _ people know.

 

The four people that know about his (past) crush on Mike are Max, Dustin, El, and Robin.

 

Firstly, it was Dustin and Max who found out. They found out together actually.

 

It was the fall of ‘85 They were all hanging out with each other at Will’s house, the whole party including Steve and Robin who have failed yet again to obtain a job at their local record shop ‘Sunny Blues.’ It was 4:23 p.m. on a Saturday and they were all scattered around the living room, lazily switching the T.V. channels to try and find something that they liked.

 

Mike said he was going to get snacks in the kitchen for all of them, and El followed him, saying she was going to ‘help’ him. Will’s eyes followed El’s hand-me-down plaid jacket from Hopper flow out of the room and into the kitchen and saw her hand fly up to meet Mikes. Will got distracted, but they ended up choosing a show that involved someone who Will recognized as Mel Harris. An ungracious mixture of jealousy and anger boiled up in his tummy and traveled to his cheeks, making his face turn a shade of apple red. He quietly huffed and faced the small T.V. screen again. What he didn’t see was all Max, Dustin, Lucas, Steve, and Robin make eye contact with each other. It was funny that Will didn’t feel anything because Will was sitting right on to Robin, pressed up against her belly, curled and cuddled into her lap. Will took quite a liking to Robin after they got properly introduced to one another. There was something about her bubbly personality, messy buns, and oversized band-logo shirts that made Will feel connected to her in some other unknown way. It was unexplainable. They both liked The Clash, David Bowie, Queen - and she even introduced him to some new bands and artists that he thinks are pretty good. 

 

Like Will, she is very artistic as well. Though her art style is way more incaptivating and colorful than his work will ever be. She calls it cubism, shapes, blobs, and a spectrum of utter nothingness, yet a masterpiece of potential somethingness all the same. Her art looks like something out of an art museum. He thinks it  _ should  _ be in a museum, next to all the other fabulous paintings and oil pastel based works of art by artists like Pablo Picasso and Marc Chagall. He told her this once and she said that she could never, and would never, compare to the great and absolutely breathtaking images that people like them paint into a person's brain just as well as painting and illustrating on a canvas. 

 

-They bonded over many things, and overall, Robin was the most appealing and non-boring person Will has ever met and hung out with. And there was still that thing at the edge of his mind, the end of his brain that thought there was a little something more that they might have in common. A sinful little struggle that they both shared and could be the reason why they get along so well. Though Mike and Lucas don’t pay jack-shit attention to her, they don’t even know her last name, but little do they know they’re missing out on some pretty interesting conversations.

 

Since Mike and El got back together again, it’s like they’re all that matters to each other now. Especially now that they’ve said the ‘L’ word, they’re really going all out. More annoying and gross than this summer, and Will is getting shoved to the edge of repressed frustration with them, and one day he thinks that he’ll snap at completely the wrong time and Mike would fuck him over like he did during their argument in the summer.

 

Suddenly, two figures are blocking the view of the T.V. in front of him and are grabbing at his hands, pulling him up and off from his seat in the comfortable confines of Robins lap.

 

Dustin says, “Will, we need to talk to you,” as they lead him to his room.

 

“Why’d we have to leave the living room?” asks Will with a bridge of annoyance hovering over his voice.

 

“In private.” Max says sternly.

 

When they get to his room, Dustin sits Will right on the edge of his Star Wars bed sheeted bed (though he was going to change it when they had the right money because he didn’t want to seem childish), while Max closes the door of his room and locks the knob. 

 

Max and Dustin both stand across from Will, looking down at him, hands crossed. Will’s leg bouncing as he waited for them to start talking, wanting to know what was going on, but at the same time, worried about what they were going to say, for they looked so serious and stern.

 

Growing impatient, after about a minute of total silence and nothing but stares and air between them, Will started, “Okay, why’d you guys even bring me here if you’re not going to talk to me?” he flailed his arms around dramatically.

 

Dustin and Max looked at each other, Max sighed and gestured toward Will to Dustin, but Will didn’t know what for.

 

“I thought you were gonna ask him.” Dustin whispered loudly in response to Max’s indication to start talking.

 

“Dustin we went over this, you ask, I do the rest.” Max whispered even louder, more roughly than Dustin, probably to seem in authority. Will watched them argue back and forth about who knows what.

 

“You do it.” said Dustin.

 

“Don’t be such a pussy. He’s your goddamn best friend!” Max started yelling.

 

“Oh, if I’m such a pussy then you do it.”

 

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to ask. I knew we should’ve done Robin instead of you.”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? That Robin would’ve done better than me? I’m his best friend!”

 

“Exactly my point, so why can’t you just suck it up and ask the boy because right now we aren’t going anywhere.”

 

“This isn’t just like asking for candy Max, we’re dead ass asking Will if-”

 

Max hit Dustin’s arm before he could finish his sentence and they stopped and turned to Will, Max’s face full of dread and annoyance, Dustin stone-cold serious.

 

“Go ahead, I’m listening.” Will shrugged, clasping his hands in his lap.

 

Dustin cleared his throat and threw a brick of a question at him, and it almost physically knocked Will out.

 

“Do you like Mike?”

 

Will’s eyes visibly widened and his throat dilated as though a heavy shackle were around it, all the blood in his body that was scorching hot from the days heat was suddenly turned to frost in his veins and any color from his skin drained. For a moment all he could see was black, no light, no Dustin, no Max, just him with his thoughts. His haunting thoughts. Though he was just sitting down on his small twin bed, it felt as though he just threw up and was about to retch yet again. How did they know? How did they find out? He hasn’t told anybody yet. Is he that obvious?

 

Now that he was confronted with the truth, he was going to have to confirm. There was no way he could lie, no not ever. It wasn’t possible for him to lie, though if he were not to lie, would it make things awkward? Well, there's only one way to find out.

 

“What? No! Why would you guys think that?” Will sputtered, trying to sound as flabbergasted as possible. Maybe a little too over the top…

 

“See Max? I told you there was nothing going on. Oh well, we got our answer, time to go-” Dustin said as he started walking towards the door before Max grabbed him by the arm and plopped him right back into place in front of Will again.

 

“He’s lying.” Max said while pointing to him. Her stubbornness flashing through her eyes. Will caught her gaze and leaned back, almost mistaking them for the eyes of snakes.

 

“Do you have proof?” Will asked, his breathing uneven and the gulp of his saliva he took like sandpaper down his throat, sharp and rough. 

 

“Why does your face always fall when Mike and El show public displays of affection?” Max interrogated.

 

“Well, because-”

 

“Why do you look at Mike the same way Eleven Hopper does?”

 

“I don’t-”

 

“Why do you have drawings of Mike in your bedroom?”

 

“How did you-”

 

“I see the way you act around him Will, me and Dustin. So cut the bullcrap and spill your shit because-”

 

“Max!” Dustin yelled, trying to get her to stop questioning him like she’s some detective looking for a serial killer. He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back, seeing tears swell from Will’s eyes, little sobs for breath puffing in and out of his chest.

 

Max too noticed she made Will start crying with her crude comments and aggressively probe questions and she immediately wore an apologetic face and crossed her arms over her chest. 

 

“Let the man speak.” Dustin said calmly, pointing to Will who let out a breath and tried to relax in the tight and uncomfortable aura.

 

Will held his hands up, feigning guilt. They caught him it’s over. He can’t work a lie around the question when the truth is holding a knife to  his throat. 

 

“Fine, I do like him. You caught me.” He said in defeat as he let his hands fall down to his lap, his eyes following, “There you have truth. Are you guys happy now?”

 

He rubbed at his nose, feeling the bud of it start to burn and create an itchy sensation. He didn’t know why, but then he started to see wet chunks of liquid plop onto his hands and his lap. He was crying, of course, but he couldn’t feel it. As in, he could feel all the pain in which caused the tears, but not the tears themselves. Crying usually helps him with stress and relieves him from his hurt, his problems, but right now the pain just isn’t leaving. It’s staying there, deep and rooted inside of him like a rotting seed, spreading to his cracking heart and collapsing his lungs and breaking his body altogether. He started sobbing, wanting it to all go away, think that if he cried harder maybe it’d stop, but it still didn’t work. He started crying and making mangled and broken yelps with his cracking vocals, straining his lungs, his eyes, his throat to just make it all stop.To just go numb. He was begging with his sobs, sitting there on the foot of his bed, his body unable to stop shaking with the need to make his pain all go away. Hiccups started forming at the base of his adams apple and he saw a freckled milky arm wrap around his body, welcomed with tangles of ginger hair. An arm with a maroon sweater cloaking it wrapped around his fragile body next and the bed sunk in their direction, and he wouldn’t -  _ couldn’t _ stop crying. 

 

It went on for hours until Will passed out of exhaustion from all his energy being used on forcing the pain away. He woke up with nothing but a lock of glowing scarlet hair on the front of his shirt.

__________

 

The next person who found out was none other than the famous Robin Buckley.

 

Robin, with her smart-mouthed remarks and snarky comments.

 

With her bushel of almond hair that never seems to be kept tidy, always left in the wildest of knots.

 

Her unnaturally warm and welcoming hugs and cuddles that makes Will forget what it’s like to be cold.

 

Her charisma and her idea that life itself is boring and we’re the only ones who can make life as fun as possible.

 

There are about a million other things that William could check off of his imaginary list about the things he admires most about Robin. 

 

There is absolutely nothing  _ anybody  _ could say that can make Will see her as a bad or boring person. Nothing that can make Will despise her.

 

That is, until this very moment.

 

“You  _ what _ ?”

 

“I know,” she said, sounding distressed, “listen, what I did was stupid, but just hear me out-”

 

“What’s there to listen to? What’s done is done anyways, there’s no redoing the past.” Will said sarcastically, trying his best to hide his utter anxiety. Robin’s explanation letting a wave of turmoil crash down on him, drowning him, unknowing of what was gonna happen next. What  _ he _ was gonna say next. Oh, just the thought of what he might say made his insides lurch, his heart beat against his sternum, and his bones turn to jelly.

 

“Look, Will, I’m really, really sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to pry, I didn’t know that he was gonna be coming.” Robin tried to explain, sounding utmost regretful, exasperated at most. She watched him pace around her garage while she picked out dried paint underneath her nails. 

 

“Even if you didn’t know he was coming, you still shouldn’t have done it!” He stopped pacing and looked straight at her, his face contorted into a mixture of anger and anxiousness. His eyebrows wrinkled in the middle and his breath was ragged. 

 

Robin gave up trying to defend herself and her body slumped on the counter, head down. Will was really scary when he was mad.

 

“You’re right.” she said, sighing, “I’m sorry, Will. So, so sorry.”

 

She was so ignorant to the situation this would put Will in had anybody walked in. And someone did walk in. Guess William wasn’t the only soul filled with curiosity. Possibly too much curiosity to the point where they overstep boundaries, and erase the word privacy and its definition.

 

“You know what? It’s fine, he probably doesn’t care right?” He stopped pacing in front of her and looked at her for a brief moment. Worry flashed across his face, his expression as if distress were written all over his forehead in black permanent marker.

 

“I mean he is as oblivious as it is, and…” he looked at her again.

 

“Wait, what did you say to him? Did you try to make it seem like it was something that it wasn’t? Please tell me you tried to back me up, Robin.” Will said desperately, cracking his knuckles and fidgeting with the purple bracelet that El gave him around his wrist.

 

“Relax, Byers. I told him that you had a folder for everyone in the party. He said that the drawings were cool, and that he’d ask you if he could keep one to frame up on his wall.”

 

So much relief and gratefulness cleansed his fear within seconds and he breathed the breath he was holding in from the start of this conversation, “Thank  _ god,  _ Robin.” He hugged her. He thanked the holy fucking  _ gods _ for Mikes usual obliviousness.

 

What he liked about hugging her was that he didn’t have to go up on his toes as he usually did with his friends, except for El, since Robin and him were more or less the same height. She smelled of acrylic paint and wet grass, as she normally did, and to him, it was pretty relaxing to say the least. It calmed him down. 

 

A few moments passed with just the rustle of the leaves in the background, as if it were a movie. Then, from her lips, still hugging her, he heard, “So, Mike Wheeler, huh?” He could practically hear the complacent grin in her tone.

 

He released her from his hold as he rolled his eyes and said, “Yep, I guess I’m stuck with that dickhead.”

 

“I mean, it kinda makes sense,” she started, pulling herself to sit up on the counter, bringing her left leg up to cross over her right.

 

“Oh yeah? How so?” Will said, crossing his arms.

 

“I mean, you guys have been best friends for over a decade,” she said, counting off the facts with her fingers, “you’re obviously closer than most best friends are,”

 

“No. People who are closer than best friends are couples. Mike and I are  _ not  _ a couple. Mike and Eleven however -”

 

“Let me rephrase, most _ guy _ best friends are,” she interrupted, earning a joking scoff from Will.

 

“And, lastly,” she counted off a third finger, “the real shit. Shared trauma,”

 

“And again, Mike and El. I remember the time Mike completely blocked himself from us when El was gone. I remember we used to have our ‘crazy talks’ and he cried, full on sobbed, talking about how he just watched her vanish, while he could do nothing to prevent it from happening.”

 

“-and he did the same when you vanished too,” she said, though quickly tried to recover from her obvious mistake of bringing up  _ that _ time, such a sensitive topic that everyone knew Will would freeze up when brought up, “in that place.” she looked at him to see if she somehow triggered him in anyway. During the summer of 85’ she didn’t know what or how anything was happening, she didn’t understand a thing. It all seemed so supernatural, like something out of a movie, or like a show. But after, everyone explained what happened two years ago to Erica and her both. She knew Byers’ brother was missing, but everyone just said he got lost in the woods for a week, but that obviously wasn’t the case. 

 

“How would you know? You weren’t even there when I went missing.” He gritted his teeth, his palms suddenly started to sweat, and his feet started to tremble and stumble over each other even though he was just standing in place. He wanted to be strong, he really did. He wanted to talk about it like it was nothing, but it was so hard. He tries to block out the demons still lingering inside his body from the possession, but he always feels as if it’s still there. Living in his body and feasting on his brain bit by bit, slowly driving him to insanity. Like it’s tattooed into his flesh, and the memory of it is sinking into the marrow of his bones and blood, like it’s apart of him now and there’s no way he can escape it. Memories of _ those things _ killing innocent people flash in his vision from time to time and he even when people tell him that it wasn’t his fault, the guilt is still there and he tells himself that it’s  _ his fault- _

 

“I guess I just spent way too much time with Nancy. I think she suspects something is up too.” She chuckled, leaning back on her hands. She noticed that it looked like it was if she hadn’t heard him, he was just staring blankly at her. Alarmed, her face turned into a bout of worry and concern, “Hey, you okay, Will?” she started to climb off of the counter as her eyebrows twisted together, slightly panicking.

 

_ Suddenly he was freezing again. He doesn’t know if it was a memory of him drowning in the cold and suffocating in it, or if he was actually starting to cool. Either way, the presence of the monsters were there, and he could feel the cold again. Ah, again. Here he was, in the arcade, but not the arcade. It was a hellish depiction of the arcade, but a penetratingly cold hell. This was his next hiding place since that monster destroyed Castle Byers. It was all so sudden, one moment, he was lying on the floor of his safe place and the next, he saw pieces of wood flying everywhere and the demogorgon. Not like the one in DND, less scary, but still paralyzingly frightening, and real. So very real. A flower petal like face that opens up in the most disturbing way to reveal its rows and rows of sharp teeth, and a grotesquely bony, mutated body with no eyes. How does it sense him? Does it smell him? Though he’s thankful that the demogorgon isn’t a replica of the one in DND, he is still scared for his fucking life. His fun fantasies turned into actual living nightmares and he tried with all the strength in his blood and body to run. Run anywhere it isn’t. And he ended up in the arcade. He thinks he lost the monster, but he’s not sure. He’s hiding in the storage room and his breath is ragged and sharp, yet still not enough to give him warmth. He was sweating for sure, but a cold sweat. _

 

Flashbacks of the Upside Down flickered on and off in his eyes and from the memory he heard a low growl and he shivered. _ Everything was so loud, every growl and every drip of that disgusting ooze, yet, it was so quiet. Nobody was here. He was all alone. He was going to rot here. How could anybody know where he was if he was in an alternate dimension where all that exists is death and decay? Where all there is to it is demise?  _

 

He saw Robin, a blurred version of her, but the real life world dissolved into the Upside Down as quick as it came to the real world.

 

_ He was on the verge of tears, and he tried holding back as sob. He choked, coughing as quietly as he could in the realm where every sound you made is echoed and a trillion times louder than it really is. He coughed again, trying to breathe in as much air as possible, though it seemed impossible as the air was just dust and particles of bacteria. The most that breathing this polluted air could do was kill him. He could die here. He might as well, it’s not like anybody else would be here to save him.  _ The remembrance of what loneliness, terror, and hopelessness made him feel like altogether sent shock waves down his spine and clogged his throat with bile. A single tear ran down his cheek. He was still staring blankly at Robin.

 

“Will?” Robin’s hoarse voice rang in his eardrum, but still, the memory raged on. 

 

_ A slug crawled onto his leg. He gasped, but it sounded like a yell in there. He heard another low growl. He choked back another sob. He felt dirty and disgusting and he just wanted a hug. He missed his mom, his friends, Johnathan, everyone. He wanted to be home, not here, where a slug was crawling farther and farther up his body as seconds passed. He tried prying it off, but he was too weak. It stuck to his leg like a suction cup and there was nothing he could do about it. He was dehydrated, tired, hungry and he was about to pass out as it reached his shoulder. _ Will didn’t know why, but the pressure from the slug in the memory felt so physically real. As if there was a slug right now on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure the slug was there, but he could definitely feel something there -

 

“Will!” It was Robin's hands on his shoulders, that’s why it felt so real. He was brought back into the real world, blinking a few times to make sure the memory was most definitely over. Her face was right in front of his, her eyebrows drawn together and eyes swarmed with obvious panic and anxiety, and she sighed a breath of relief as his body still trembled from the flashback. His hands felt clammy and the back of his throat felt dry yet so wet. He thought he could forget the feeling, the amount of horror and sorrowfulness that passed within himself those few years ago, which seemed like such a short time ago, but he guessed he never would. It would be like this everytime someone brought up his past. He wished that it would go away someday. He couldn’t be strong, he is broken.

 

She pulled him into a hug yet again, making him warm, and like most times, making him forget what cold was, “Thank fuck you’re okay.” the embrace was tight and comforting. He melted into her arms and all his worries whisked away for a moment.

 

“What happened?” She asked, her voice cracked with dismay and she looked him in the eye.

 

He gulped, “Flashback.”

 

“Of the upside down?” She asked again carefully, trying not to make him uncomfortable.

 

He nodded, shivering with the mention of it, and she hugged him like his mom would, but less fear and more soothing and compassionate, and he loved her for that. There wasn’t really much to it other than the fact that he loved her.

 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered into his ear.

 

A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it wasn't too boring. Comments are appreciated and, again, I'll have part two for Will up as soon as I possibly can.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! I have lot's of idea's for this fic, and I'm not just making stuff up as I go, like with my other ones. I think this will be my best fic yet, and I can't wait for you guys to see more. Don't forget to leave comments because I love reading your thoughts and critiques.


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